


Blueberry Scones

by Alicia_Antioch



Series: Puzzle Piece Lives [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicia_Antioch/pseuds/Alicia_Antioch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose's grandparents die and Scorpius just wants to help her feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueberry Scones

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot I needed to get out if my head. Plus it adds a little meat to my main fic. Hope you enjoy.

Scorpius arrived to the Potter's about a week before Rose and Hugo. Arriving early gave him enough time to prepare for the upcoming reality of being around Rose every day. Scorpius wasn't sure how to handle this. During the summer she wasn't an enemy. She was Rose, the one in his head who didn’t hate him. It almost didn't seem real. In those warm and beautiful months, Rose was almost imaginary, ethereal being that floated in and out of his thoughts. He could fantasize about her hair, her smile, her laugh without any pretense. He didn’t have to fight with her or pretend to be filled with disdain whenever he saw her. She was not a real, breathing, living person. She existed on a different plane, and he could muse to his heart’s content.

In his dreams he could see her in the school library, tutoring a group of First Years. Her hair is flowing over her shoulder in gentle curls. Her perfectly pressed, starched white, button front shirt reflects the candlelight from above. She looks up, sees him standing in the stacks, and smiles. Scorpius slips further back into the rows and rows of books, knowing she'll follow. He turns into one of the darker, dustier rows, waiting for her to slip in behind him. He feels her arms slide around his waist and he turns to meet her mouth with his. He always wakes the second their lips brush. It was a constant dream of his, taking up many of his sleeping hours.

That summer was the first time in a very long time he had seen her one-on-one, no school or barriers between them. The first time he saw her alone was about a month she arrived. It had been one very long month. Rose was deeply affected by her grandparents deaths, and was always on edge. Everything anyone did set her into a fit, and it seemed to Scorpius that everything he did was the worst of all. After the funerals, Rose, Hugo and their parents stayed for a few weeks to clean out and sell the home left behind. From the little tidbits of information Al had pried from Hugo, and then passed on to Scorpius, Rose sat in their old playroom and cried for a week straight. Every day she'd pick up a new toy or game and cry over it for hours. Knowing how it affected her pained Scorpius. He thought of her constantly, one step up from frequently, where he was before.

He woke with a start very early one morning. He had been dreaming, and for once it hadn’t been about Rose. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he stood and treaded softly to the bathroom as not to wake Al in the next bed over. Stretching, he slipped into some comfortable clothes and trainers. He jogged down the back staircase towards the kitchen, forming a makeshift workout plan in his mind. He thought to go for a short run and then take a few laps around the Quidditch Pitch. His plans stalled when he saw her.

She was sitting alone at the breakfast nook, quietly staring out the window, with her morning tea on the table before her. One of her legs was pulled up under her chin, wedged between her body and the table's edge. Her eyes looked swollen, and her skin was sallow. Everything about her cried out misery. And Scorpius still thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He turned, trying to slip quietly back up the stairs but she stopped him.

"You don't have to go. I- well I won't bite." Scorpius looked back at her, and watched as she lifted the mug to her lips. Her face scrunched up as she drank the cold tea.

"Ugh, this is awful." He slowly took a few steps back down the stairs as she walked across the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the cool tile floors. Her dressing gown was long and open over her plaid pajama shorts and shirt. She let the tie drag behind her, slightly askew. She dumped her tea down the drain, and walked back to the cozy nook. She slid into the booth and resumed staring into nothing. Her hair was loosely braided and tied with the thinnest ribbon Scorpius had ever seen. She sat, looking utterly disinterested in the world around her as she pulled her braid over her shoulder and toyed with the ends of her hair.

Scorpius crossed the kitchen to where the kettle sat. Grabbing a tray from above the stove top, he quietly loaded it with a few cups and saucers, tea, sugar, milk, and a few fresh blueberry scones. Grabbing the butter, the closest dish, and a few pieces of cutlery from the drying rack, he crossed the kitchen to where she was sitting. He put the tray in the middle of the table and silently slipped into the chair across from her.

Without a word, Scorpius fixed her a fresh cup of tea, and buttered her a scone. He stayed silent while the tears started to stream slowly down her face. He didn't say a word while her breath grew shallow and short. All he did was slide her the tea and scone, offer her one of Mrs. Potter's nice cloth napkins, and sit while she cried. He knew this type of grief wasn't to be ignored or shoved away. The only way to be through it was to feel it, every miserable step of the way.

Eventually Rose's tears slowed, and then stopped altogether. When he was satisfied she was going to alright, Scorpius stood and stretched. He took a few large steps toward the back door. When he heard her start to fix her tea with sugar and milk, he turned his head slightly.

"It does get easier, so you know. My grandfather died a few years back, my mum's dad. He was a right prick most of the time, especially to my mum and dad, but almost never to me. I have mostly good memories of him and when he died... well it was hard. I know you were much closer to yours than I ever was with him, but it does get easier. You just have to take it day by day. And one day, you'll wake up and it won't hurt very much. And then, a little while later, it won't hurt as it will be the slightest twinge of pain. Eventually the hurt just turns to happiness. You only remember the good things. Christmas, Easter, summer nights, birthdays. Those things drown all of the pain left behind."

Rose gave him almost a half a smile, and nodded. and he turned and walked out the door.

He pretended not to hear her say, "I just hope those days come soon."


End file.
